


Just Pretending

by aelin_and_feyre



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Nessian Wedding, feysand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelin_and_feyre/pseuds/aelin_and_feyre
Summary: Rhys needs a date to Cassian's wedding—and who's better than the Maid of Honor he's been crushing on forever?





	Just Pretending

“Come on, Feyre, please?” Rhys begs, catching Feyre off guard for a good two seconds, seeing a grown, strong man begging. She quickly recovers, however, flipping her hair as she studies her dress in the mirror.

“Don’t come crying to me last minute, Rhysand, you should have figured out this problem a long time ago.” Feyre answers, intent not to ever agree to any deal involving Rhysand Night, her outspoken enemy but somehow the best friend of her sister’s fiancee.

She is about to walk away from him when Rhys steps into her path, hands raised to stop her from going anywhere. “You don’t understand, Cassian just told me that she was invited, and I was planning on going solo tonight but now, that’s not possible unless we want there to be a scene.”

Feyre puts her hands on her hips. “Just get any other girl to pretend to be your girlfriend for the night, I’m sure there are at least ten listening at the door right now, eager for the chance.” She comments bitterly.

Rhys doesn’t even glance away from her eyes. “That’s the point. With you, there are no expectations, just pretend. Please, Feyre,” He literally gets on his knees. “I’m on my knees, begging you. Just pretend to be my date. One night.”

Feyre studies him for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons. It would keep potential creeps away from her, but would also ward off any cute guys that might notice her as maid of honor. It would also be feeding into the best man screws maid of honor stereotype, but she would love to see the look on the other girls’ faces when they saw them walk in together, as a couple. Not to mention it would be hilarious to see the reaction of this crazy ex-girlfriend of his.

Finally, Feyre sighs. “One night, Rhysand, and I’m not sleeping with you either, so don’t even think about it.”

A brilliant smile lights up Rhys’ face and Feyre can’t help but feel that this is a terrible idea.

The ceremony was beautiful, Nesta was breathtaking and Cassian was indeed, breathless. Feyre’s not sure he stopped smiling the entire time. Nesta is happy and that’s all that matters to Feyre.

Pictures went quickly, as Nesta was impatient and Cassian was inclined to give her anything she wanted no matter what. When they get to the reception hall, Rhys wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him and putting his lips to the side of her head as if he’s giving her a kiss. “Show time, darling.”

Discreetly, Feyre elbows his side. “Don’t make me regret this, Rhysand.” She warns.

Rhys turns back as they get into the line for the bridal party grand entrance. “You might want to start calling me Rhys, as that’s what my friends call me.”

Elain and Azriel are introduced and Feyre and Rhys step up behind them, his fingers laced through hers. Feyre never thought she would be in this position, walking into a wedding reception next to Rhysand Night. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, his hand is extremely comfortable in hers. Before they go in, she quickly reminds herself that everything that happens tonight is just pretending.

“The maid of honor and best man, Feyre and Rhysand!” The announcer proclaims, cueing the two of them to step into the room as all eyes turn to see. A beat starts playing and Rhys takes control, twirling her multiple times while they weave through the tables, stopping in the middle of the room to dip her deeply and then pull her close to him. She doesn’t fail to notice that his eyes never leave hers. 

People clap and whoop, Feyre’s cheeks heating when she breaks her gaze from his and looks around, smiling at the attendees. They walk hand in hand to the head table, sitting in their designated spots while Cassian and Nesta make their own grand entrance.

When Nesta sits down next to her, her sister’s own cheeks are flushed, breathing uneven. It doesn’t help the situation when the whole room starts clinking their utensils against their glasses and Cassian gently takes Nesta’s face in both his hands and kisses her. They smile at each other when they pull away and Feyre feels her heart melt. Nesta hasn’t been this happy in a long time.

The food is brought out shortly after, absolutely delicious of course, but the entire meal, Feyre can feel Rhys’ eyes on her, and knows he’s trying to get her attention from across the bride and groom. Halfway through her steak, she finally decides to actually play her part and sends a sultry glance his way, actually catching him off guard. Rhys smiles back, winking at her, something Nesta doesn’t fail to notice.

The eldest Archeron sister glances at Feyre in a silent question. “I’ll tell you later. Just enjoy your day.” Nesta easily agrees and goes back to her food. When Feyre glances back at Rhys, his face is pale, staring somewhere in the sea of round tables at something, or someone, she can’t pinpoint. Feyre grits her teeth and sighs, knowing this is what she agreed to, and swears to make Rhys pay through the nose.

After dabbing her mouth a couple times, Feyre stands from her chair and walks over to the back of Rhys’. She leans down and drapes her arms around his shoulders, smiling as she whispers in his ear. “Come with me to get a drink, darling?”

Rhysand instantly relaxes, a small smile replacing the frown from before. He takes the hand that’s resting on his chest and stands up, wrapping an arm around her waist so they can walk to the bar together. His eyes focus on her completely as they walk, though he easily makes his ways through the maze of tables without even looking. Most people are so engrossed in their own conversations and meals that no one looks up as they pass, perhaps except the pair of eyes that this whole show is for.

“Is she looking at us?” Feyre mutters under her breath, but peeking up at him through her eyelashes.

Rhys’ smile tightens. “Most likely.” He replies. They reach the bar, Rhys leaning an arm against it and ordering their drinks. She leans next to him, facing each other, and Rhysand takes the opportunity to reach over and push a strand of hair behind her ear. Feyre, far too easily for her liking, makes herself blush at the gesture.

The drinks are placed next to them but Feyre finds herself too entranced in his gaze to notice. “Thank you for doing this, Feyre.” Rhys finally breaks the tense silence.

“You know you owe me, though, right? Big time.” She reminds.

“Oh, yes, I know.” He hands her the drink and takes a sip of his own.

To try and win back some of her conscience, Feyre decides to change the topic. “So where is she?” Glancing around the collected guests, she can’t pinpoint any one girl that looks awful enough for Rhys to have gotten on his knees to be warded from. 

“One of the tables in the back.” He replies, then glances at the DJ stand. “Hey, we should go request a song for later, and soon or else we’ll have to wait forever to get it played.” He grabs her hand and Feyre has to scramble to set her drink down before it falls. 

They get to the DJ and Rhys requests a song. While looking around for Rhysand’s ex, Feyre notices that there are a number of girls here who are continuously glancing their way. Another glance at the attendees makes Feyre realize that she can have a lot of fun with this deal. 

She glances back at Rhys, who is still quietly conversing with the DJ. It’s no secret that he is definitely the most attractive guy here, might be the most attractive guy in Prythian, and she gets to rub it in all these stuck up girl’s faces that she get’s to be on his arm tonight, even if it’s fake. She’s always hated her sister’s friends, and this is the perfect way to finally show them up. 

When Rhysand is done talking, Feyre makes a bold choice. She grasps his arm and pulls him down so she can whisper in his ear. “Change of plans, Rhysand. I’ll play your girlfriend, but everything is my choice, I make the decisions tonight and you play along, got it?” Rhys’ eyes widen comically before he recovers himself and smirks, turning his head to look at her and nodding. 

Plans are easily forming in Feyre’s mind. She bites her lip, takes his hand, and starts guiding him towards the door. A glance back at the head table reveals that Nesta has barely noticed she is gone, too preoccupied in Cassian’s eyes. Feyre makes a promise to herself that no matter what she does tonight with Rhys, she can’t ruin her sister’s big day. 

A little less than ten minutes later, Feyre and Rhys re-enter the reception room and half a dozen eyes snap to look at them, scanning their slightly disheveled clothes and Rhys’ messed up hair, Feyre’s own handiwork. Half a dozen pairs of eyes flick to Feyre, some with impressed expressions while others are more sinister. 

Feyre and Rhys smile at each other slyly, an unspoken innuendo to anyone else, however they both knew that the look was purely between associates in a scheme. In reality, nothing romantic or elicit had happened when they left, as many people in the room now assumed as they noticed them heading back to their table. 

Feyre had expertly messed up his hair just enough to look like it had been pulled with considerable passion, had smudged her lipstick and placed a bit on his own lips - which had been more than a little awkward - and let one of the straps on her shoulder fall when she walked in, which she promptly fixed once enough people had noticed it. Rhys had also loosened his tie just a touch to add to the effect and then they had waited, talking quietly for a couple minutes until Feyre had decided they had been gone for enough time to encourage the appropriate response. 

The whole time they had talked, Rhysand had looked at her with a weird expression that Feyre took as gratitude. This was definitely going to make any ex-girlfriend very wary of approaching a man so obviously involved with another woman. He ought to be grateful for her efforts. 

When they passed the bar, Feyre grabbed a water bottle, giving it to Nesta when they got back to the head table who looked at her thankfully. Her sister hadn’t even noticed they were gone. Rhys meets her eye and notices as well, shaking his head at the humor of it. 

“Hey, Elain,” Feyre turns to her other sister on her right. “How’s your dinner tasting?”

“Oh, absolutely delicious Feyre, how’s Rhysand tasting?” If Feyre had been drinking something, she would have to spit it out at this moment, and then she would have taken another sip just to spit it out again. Elain had literally just said that and Feyre could not believe her ears. Elain let out a laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me you are Rhys were a thing? I thought you hated him!" 

Feyre sputtered, unable to find the words. Elain kept speaking though. "Would you like to sit by him? I wanted to go talk to Lucien anyway, I can offer Rhys the opportunity to sit here for a while in my stead.” Feyre could only manage a nod. So Elain stood up, making sure her long, flowery dress wouldn’t get caught, and then walked over to Feyre’s fake-boyfriend and gave up her spot. 

Rhys smiles and thanks Elain, standing to change his seating arrangement. “How did you convince her?” He wonders as he sits. 

Feyre shakes her head, trying to get rid of her shock. “She just gave it up once she noticed that you and I are together.” Rhysand laughs, successfully shaking Feyre from her stupor finally. 

She reaches over and grabs his hand, bringing it into her lap. His arm stiffens for a split second and then he relaxes, letting her guide his hand until it’s resting on her thigh. Then, she leans over and whispers, “Don’t tone down the fact that your hand is very close to me… it’ll drive her wild." 

She felt Rhys’ grip on her leg tighten but his lips stretched into a grin as if she’d just whispered something incredibly dirty to him. "Good, boy, now don’t freak out.” She whispers again and lets her lips touch the shell of his ear, looking very intimate to outsiders… and very intimate to her as well.

What the fuck am I doing? 

Feyre honestly isn’t sure what has gotten into her, and as she draws away from a shuddering Rhysand, she realizes she doesn’t particularly care. Her heart is racing wildly, and she’s having a hard time keeping the facade of being turned on an actual facade.

It’s alright as long as you keep a level head. Don’t have anything alcoholic to drink and don’t do anything irrational. It’s all just pretend.

So instead of escalating the public display of intimacy as she had planned, Feyre instead rests her chin on her hand and turns to Rhys, giving him an appreciative look and batting her eyelashes. As they talk, Rhys’ hand slowly, in incredibly tiny increments, sneaks it’s way up her thigh until it’s only a couple inches from her center. To her infinite surprise, Feyre doesn’t stop it’s assent, though she tells herself every time it moves that she will halt it’s advance next time. 

Thankfully, the DJ announces the bride and groom’s first dance and saves Feyre from having to follow through on her promise. Not breaking eye contact, Rhys removes his hand with a small caress and then turns to clap as Nesta and Cassian enter the dance floor. Feyre catches Elain’s eye from the other side of the room and her sister winks at her suggestively, her own arm slung through Lucien’s. Feyre’s not sure what has gotten into her sister either. 

Nesta and Cassian dance beautifully, their eyes never leaving each other, and Feyre can’t help feeling jealous. Maybe that’s why she’s acting this way, same with Elain. The two unmarried Archerons feel vulnerable and alone tonight, and two men are happy to fill the gaps. 

When the song finishes, the floor is open for anyone to join, and Rhysand stands, offering his hand to her. “Dance with me?” He asks, arching an eyebrow. 

“I’d be delighted.” They start to make their way to the dance floor when something catches Rhys’ eye and his whole body tightens. 

“What’s wrong, Rhys?” Feyre asks, trying to keep her tone flirty and seductive. 

“She’s coming this way, Feyre, what do we do?” He mutters, and Feyre has to make a split second decision. 

Without even looking for the girl who is the cause of all this, Feyre steps in front of Rhys, facing him, and slings her arms around his neck. His eyes widen a fraction. “Just relax.” She murmurs, and then steps onto her tiptoes, closes her eyes, and presses her lips to his. 

If Rhys is surprised, he does a good job not showing it, as he easily slides his arms around her waist and pulls her flush against him, perhaps a little too close for polite company, but that’s the point. Though she should, Feyre can’t find herself able to pull away from the feeling of his soft lips moving against hers, nor can she find it in herself to regret her decision as she sinks deeper into his form. 

“Mmm,” Feyre hums as Rhys is the one to finally pull away, resting his forehead against hers and breathing slightly heavily.

“Wow.” He gasps, catching his breath.

Feyre smirks, looking at him through her eyelashes. “Wow, indeed, who knew Rhysand Night could kiss like that?” Her hand somehow finds it’s way onto the back of his head and she gently scrapes her nails through his hair. Rhys practically purrs in response. 

“We should get on the dance floor.” He says hoarsely, finally pulling away in an attempt to not kiss her again, for sure. 

Feyre, now that she’s no longer pressed against him, finds her mind and looks around. It's just pretending. “Is she gone?" 

"Turned right around as soon as you lips met mine.” He confirms. Feyre feels a little smug that he could have pulled away then right away, but kept kissing her instead, and then she remembers that this is all fake. Just pretend. Nothing more. 

“Good, then let’s go.” She pulls him, rather roughly, into the small throng of people dancing and attempts to lose herself to the music, a much more safe alternative to his eyes. 

When the music slows down, Feyre is separated from Rhys and spots him a couple yards away, about to be approached by a few different girls for a dance. "Rhys!“ She calls and his eyes immediately snap to hers, a smile breaking across his face as he completely ignores the other girls and makes his way promptly over to her. "You’re about to get mauled by at least three girls in their fight over you so you better put your hands on my hips right now.”

He does as he is told and she slings her arms easily around his neck, beginning to sway with the beat. His thumbs stroke her sides as he studies her, Feyre tries to get lost in the music again but fails. “Why are you doing this?” Rhysand asks quietly at last.

“Because you asked me to?” Feyre responds, not sure where this is going.“No, I mean, you could have simply walked in here with me and held my hand a little to show I was taken, but instead… Why?” He wonders.

Feyre inclines her head a bit to the side, indicating the girls sitting in chairs at tables around the perimeter of the dance floor, still looking longingly at Rhys. “My sister’s friends are bitches, it’s nice to see them knocked down a few pegs by seeing me with the hottest guy in the room.” She answers truthfully, though it may not be the whole truth. She shrugs. “And, I don’t know, with Nesta getting married, it kinda makes me realize that I don’t have that, and probably won’t have that for a really long time, so it’s nice to pretend for the night, y'know?”

Rhys nods, pulling her closer so his hands rest on the small of her back. “It doesn’t have to be a really long time, Feyre.” He says, searching her eyes. 

Feyre lets out a short laugh. “What, feeling like a matchmaker right now, Rhys? Or are you offering yourself? I said you’re hot but it doesn’t mean I want a relationship with you. Besides - ”

“There is no ex-girlfriend, Feyre.” Rhysand suddenly bursts. 

“What?” Feyre stops swaying.

He takes a deep breath. “None of the girls at this wedding were once my girlfriend, it was all just a ruse so that I could spend the night with you." 

Feyre stops breathing, taking his hand wordlessly and leading them off the dance floor, out of the reception hall, and into a little alcove. "Explain.” She demands shortly.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it could be a nice, innocent way of spending more time with you without you yelling at me every two seconds. I just wanted to be able to dance and talk and pretend for a night because, Cauldron, Feyre, I like you, a lot. And with Cassian getting married, especially to your sister, I wanted the chance to show it. And then you took over and I just went with it and I’m sorry for that too, I should have stopped it before it went as far as it did-”

Feyre can’t take it anymore. She cuts off his rambling by doing the thing that she had failed to stop thinking about the whole time she was dancing and presses her lips to his in a fierce kiss. Rhys stumbles back but regains his footing quickly, wrapping his arms firmly around her middle like a vice, her own hands making their way to his hair.

When she finally pulls away, in need of air, Rhys tries to apologize again so she pecks his lips once more. Rhysand finally shuts up after that, staring at her with wide eyes.She disentangles herself from his arms and drags a hand down her face. “Okay. Okay, fine, that’s new knowledge, huh.” She mumbles, pacing slightly in front of a stunned Rhysand. 

“Feyre, please. Be with me.” He begs, the second time Feyre has seen him beg in the last day. 

She thinks for a good five minutes, making Rhys anxious. “What the hell. Fine.” She finally turns to him. “Somehow, I’m incredibly attracted to you. So fine, we can try. I’m not promising you anything though because I did hate you at the beginning of the night but I’m willing to try." 

Rhys’ answering smile is almost blinding as he surges forward and places a sweet kiss on her still tingling lips. "You won’t regret this, Feyre, I promise.” He whispers against her mouth, his hands lightly grasping the sides of her face.

She allows a small smile to grace her features and smacks him on the shoulder, pulling out of his hold. “I better not. I can not believe you made up a fake girl!” Inside the reception hall, the music shift and Feyre gasps. “I love this song!”

“I know, that’s why I requested it. Care to dance with me? No pretending this time?” He holds out his hand. 

Feyre sees Nesta and Cassian still dancing together, the white gown flowing beautifully with the multicolored lights. She also spots Elain and Lucien smiling at each other by the bar, drinking and conversing quietly. The bride is happy, her sister is content, so Feyre finally puts her hand in Rhys’ and decides to throw caution to the wind. “No more pretending.”


End file.
